


TheKiller_OfSouls and Their Demise at the Hands of Papa III

by The_Snipes22



Series: Snipes: After Dark [5]
Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: Also the Papas are Demons, Blackmail, F/M, Hypothetically of course ;), I guess Papa III's learned some shit from his brother in terms of extortion and intimidation, I'm Bad At Summaries, Loss of Virginity, NSFW, Porn With Plot, This is basically a scenario of Papa III finds the smut you've been writing about him, Vaginal Fingering, Warning for visions of you dying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-25
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-08-07 13:58:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16409774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Snipes22/pseuds/The_Snipes22
Summary: It really sucks when someone finds your smut. Especially when it's about them, and especially when it's Papa Emeritus III. And he has a few things to say about what you've been writing.





	1. Chapter 1

You know you write the most popular smut in the clergy. Whenever you update a new chapter, there’s whispers in the hallways, Sisters of Sin quietly asking each other if they read the new chapter. You always eavesdrop for a second or two before smiling and heading on your way, happy that TheKiller_ofSouls had claimed a new victim. You never tell anyone that you’re the one who writes it, as you probably would keep getting bombarded with questions from all the other sisters of sin who want you to update it ASAP or keep getting requests in person to write yet another Ghoul/reader fic. You would begrudgingly do it, but it wouldn’t be your best work by a mile. Your magnum opus is any of your work involving Papa III, it always gets a ton of hits and your readers always come back for more.

You find it weird one day when Papa III summons you to his office. You knock on the door, and it opens soundlessly. Papa III is sitting at his desk, reading something on a paper, his feet crossed and propped up on his desk.

“Please, come in, Sister!” he says without looking up from the paper. You walk in, and he makes a sweeping motion with one of his hands, and the door shuts behind you. You sit down in one of the chairs in front of his desk and wait.

He chuckles and puts the paper on the top of a rather large pile of printer paper.

“I’ve heard that you are quite the writer.” He says with a smile.

You nod and nervously say, “Y-yes, I do do some writing in my spare time, that’s no secret.”

“Is your stuff popular online?”

You really hope that Papa III hasn’t found what you’ve written about him, and you decide to lie.

“Not really,” you sheepishly smile, “I-I don’t feel that it’s that remarkable.”

He uncrosses his feet and crosses them the other way.

“Really? Cause judging from what I’ve found, that’s a lie.”

You nervously laugh, “That’s odd, it must have gotten more hits from the last time I checked.”

“Popular or not,” Papa III grinned, “I do have some critiques of your stories, specifically your most recent one.”

Your voice shakes and your heart pounds as you respond, “O-of course. I’m always open to critique.”

Papa III picks up the stack of papers from his desk and clears his throat.

“My biggest qualm is with your wording. My dear, I don’t give people climaxes, I give them orgasms.”

You feel the blood drain from your face. Your voice cracks as you ask, “Excuse me, what did you just say?”

He chuckles and continues looking at the paper, “Just use the word orgasm my dear, It’s a much better word than climax or edge or whatever else your using.”

“That’s what I thought you said,” you quietly mumble to yourself.

“‘Sometimes, you make me so frustrated that I just want to rip you apart, tear you limb from limb, and burn all the pieces. But I stop myself when I realize that no one else lets me fuck them like you do.’ He growls in your ear.’” Papa III reads from the paper he’s holding. “Now, that doesn’t sound like me at all. The ghouls, maybe. My brother? Definitely.”

You hide your face in your hands and quietly say “Duly noted.”

“Does this writing sound familiar to …” he abruptly stops what he’s saying when he looks up from the paper. He starts laughing so hard he can barely breathe.

“It seems that I’ve finally caught the famous Killer of Souls. I’m glad my hunch was correct this time.”

You sink down into the chair as much as you can. “How?” you manage to squeak out.

He smiles and straightens the stack of papers. “I’ll tell you that  _ after _ the critique.”

Papa III spends the next hour or so critiquing almost everything about your fic. You can’t really hear him, as you are dying of embarrassment and trying to become one with the chair. The only thing that he says that stands out to you is “To be honest I don’t even know if any of these things that you’re writing are even possible! Would love to see if that’s true or not.”

After a time, you no longer hear him talking and you peek over your fingers to see what he’s doing. Papa III smugly smiles at you, and casually tosses the papers on his desk.

“My dear, if you wanted to fuck, you could have just asked.”

He dismisses you with a wave of his hand, and the door opens behind you. “Your writing captures the attention quite well. Talk to me when you decide to start writing again. I can help you make it seem more…” he paused, trying to find the right word, “Realistic.”

You walk as fast as you can back to your room and proceed to spend the rest of the day with your face buried in your pillow, feeling like you are going to die of shame.

The rest of the week is difficult. You seem to somehow run into Papa III almost everywhere you go. He never acknowledges that you’re there, as he’s usually talking to someone else, but as soon as he knows you’re there, he locks eyes with you for barely a second, a smirk crosses his face, and he winks at you. This always sends you into a spiral of embarrassment and you race out of the room before anybody can see you. With the frequency that this is happening, you feel that he revels in seeing your reactions.

With all that has been going on, you didn’t have time to write the next chapter of your most popular fic. The day after you usually upload it, you hear people whispering and wondering what happened.

“I hope they haven’t lost inspiration for it. I can’t believe they would end on a cliffhanger like that!”

“I hope not! I was really looking forward to the next chapter of smut!”

You sigh and decide to just suck it up and write the next chapter. You sit with your laptop in the dining hall and just begin to write. You don’t notice Papa III silently appear behind you, however, he just stands there and watches you write with curiosity.

You pause in your writing, and bounce your leg and steeple your fingers, trying to think of what words to put next. You stay like that for several minutes before putting your hands back on the keyboard and drumming your fingers.

Papa III quietly chuckles and asks, “You stuck?”

You jump, quickly shut your laptop, and turn around. You clear your throat and answer, “Stuck on what?”

He turns a chair around and sits down next to you, leaning backwards on the table. “You can cut the act sweetheart, there’s no one around, and no one is going to arrive anytime soon.” He says with a wink.

“Like I asked before, stuck on what, exactly?”

“Why, your story of course!” he leans his head back and smirks, “I have to say, quite an interesting turn of events in this next chapter of yours.”

You put your laptop back in its case, and shakily say, “Maybe I’m stuck. But, to be honest, the dining room isn’t the greatest place for influencing my writing.”

_ I can’t believe I’m about to do this, he’s probably going to reject me outright, but that’s okay _ . You think to yourself.

You take a deep breath in and out and say, “I’ll take you up on your offer.”

He looks at you and smiles. “I’m glad you’ve been considering it.” He offers his hand to you and you take it.

You feel motion sick as the world spins for a few seconds and you are now in a completely different place than the dining room.

“Welcome to where most of your story takes place, my bedroom. Now you can accurately describe what it looks like.” Papa III chuckles and gently tosses your laptop case on a chair in front of the fireplace.

Grandiose was an apt description for the room, just like everything else  involving Papa III. A high vaulted ceiling, a large four poster bed, and a fireplace with a plush chair in front of it are the only things you could see before Papa III grabs your chin and moves your head to look at him. He wordlessly raises his eyebrows at you and looks you up and down. You nod and after he lets go of your chin, you strip down to your underwear. He stops you from taking anything more off, and strips to his pants.

“Just stand still, right there.” He says, “Let’s see what we’re working with.” 

He circles around you like a hawk, and stops in front of you again. He takes off his gloves to reveal gold talons.

“Y-you aren’t human, are you?” You ask.

He chuckles, “Smart girl! I thought you already had that figured out, with what you were writing and all.”

He grabs your chin again and moves your head side to side like he’s inspecting it, similar to how a dog show judge looks at the entrants.

“But how can you be a demon? You don’t have the,” You bring your hands to the side of your head, “horned look going on.”

He sweetly asks you, “What did I say about standing still my dear?”

He says along with you “Not to do it, Right!”

You feel your arms being forced down you your sides and being bound there. Papa III is still holding your chin.

“To answer your question, Not all demons look like your stereotypical red-skinned, black-clawed, horned, hooved man. Some of us want to appear human so we don’t scare any of you, because we find you humans so  _ fascinating.” _

He lets go of your chin and circles around to your back.

“You are such  _ interesting  _ creatures. I myself love the creativity your species has. I mean it’s enthralling how you can write some words on paper, and you can get hundreds of people to imagine exactly what you want.”

He cuts off your underwear in two strokes of his claw, leaving a small scratch across your shoulder blades  and one on each side of your hips.

“I feel honored”, he continues, “that such a prolific writer would come to  _ me _ for help.”

You swallow and respond, “You asked first.”

You feel his claws caress your jaw and he puts his body against your back, hugging your chest under your arms and casually playing with your boobs.

He quietly laughs in your ear, “That I did, my dear, that I did. Now, how can I help your writing today great Killer of Souls?” 

You find that you can move your arms again.

You turn your head to look at him and huskily say, “Actually, there are a  _ few _ things you can help me with.”

“Oh really? A few things?”

You nod and grab one of his hands. You bring it down across your body, hissing as he scrapes lines across your stomach, and guide it to your inner thigh. You let go of his hand, grab his head with both your hands, and kiss him. He gets the hint, removes his claws, and slowly thrusts two fingers deep into your folds, savoring this, his first feeling of you.

He pulls his head slightly back and raises an eyebrow. “Already so wet my dear? We haven’t even begun!”

You bite your lip and groan as he thrusts his fingers into you again, this time adding pressure and rubbing your clit with the heel of his hand. He pauses, waiting for your reply.

“Maybe,” You breathlessly say,  “maybe I’ve been wanting this for a long time, and I’m just a bit excited.”

In response he aggressively kisses you, forcing his way into your mouth, his tongue dancing with yours. He brings you to the brink of orgasm and holds you against him as you moan into the kiss between you. You can feel his erection as he holds you tight to him. Your legs go weak 

“I-I can’t stand.” You breathily say as your legs shake and threaten to give out.

“I seem to have that effect on a lot of people.” He says with a toothy grin, his teeth glinting in the firelight.

He carries you and sits in the chair in front of the fireplace, his feet propped up on an ottoman, and you sitting on his lap. You put your legs over the armrest of the chair, and Papa 3 starts absentmindedly rubbing the your leg as he talks. You lean into and wrap your arms around his chest.

“When I first overheard the hushed whispers of the sisters of sin gushing about your story, I felt that I had to read it, seeing as I’m one of the main characters.” he chuckles at the memory.

“It was odd,” he continues, “being me, the reader, Papa Emeritus III, being fucked by me, Papa Emeritus III, but an odd alternate version of myself.

“When I first read it, I thought to myself,  _ I’m going to find whoever wrote this and punish them for misrepresentation of my character. _ ” he shakes his head and looks into your eyes, “Plans change it seems.”

You giggle, “It seems it does, and in my favor too.”

“I don’t know if this was entirely in your favor. I mean, your identity is known by a very prominent figure of the clergy, and with barely a word I can have you,” he snaps his fingers and goes back to rubbing your leg, “disappear, or worse for you, everyone in the clergy will know who you are.”

He said it with such a casual air that you feel he’s not bluffing.

“As more chapters were added to your story,” he continues as if there was no interruption, “I felt that you started to get a better handle on my character, but there were a few  _ glaring  _ flaws I couldn’t get over. So I set my sights on finding you and helping you correct them.

“You weren’t the first person I interrogated.” He says with a laugh, “You asked me how I figured out it was you? Trial and error. You’d be surprised at the number of sisters of sin that write in their spare time. Thankfully I only had to interrogate around four or five other people to get to you. You really should be more aware of your surroundings when you write, from what I heard from the ghouls, it was child’s play to sneak up on you and see what you were writing.”

Something clicked in your mind and you unwrap your arms from around Papa III, “You’re blackmailing me, aren’t you.”

He pshawed, “Why would I blackmail you?” He responded a bit too quickly, “Besides, you don’t really have anything I want, current situation notwithstanding.”

“Then what  _ is  _ the current situation, if it’s not a ploy to get me into a place where I can’t possibly refuse any terms you give.”

He stops rubbing your leg and his hand settles on your thigh. He smirks at you and his white eye twinkles unnaturally in the firelight.

“It seems that you’ve figured out one part of my game. Too late though, only way out of  this wing is me and I’m not going anywhere for awhile. And you know, blackmail is a strong word, I prefer gentle coercion.”

He brushes some hair away from your face and chuckles. “Even if you did get out, what are you going to tell people? That I tried to blackmail you? I can tell you for certain that no one would believe you, and even if they did, what could they do about it?”

“What do want so bad that you would threaten to kill me over?” Your voice shakes with nervousness and you take a deep breath to try to calm down as you realize you’re trapped.

“Threaten to kill you? Where did you possibly get that idea?” he scoffs, but that malicious twinkle didn’t fade. “If I killed you, how would you write?”

He looks at you expectantly, waiting for an answer.

“I wouldn’t?” You respond, unsure if that was the correct answer.

“That’s right my dear, but only your reputation is at stake at the moment. But if you refuse my offer, it might be more than that on the line.”

He moves the hand that was on your thigh and holds your cheek, tracing your cheekbone with his thumb. His voice is dangerously low as he says “With your reputation, If word got out that you were my bitch? So many of the sisters of sin would hate you out of pure jealousy. Do you know how many people would kill to be in your place? I assume you do, as I know you aren’t the only one listening to the furtive whispers of your fellow clergy members.

"And imagine, not only that, but also it was revealed that you are the Killer of Souls. It would make sense to them why your smut is so good, but they would hate you for it. They’ll know that they could never get what you have. They don’t have the same _allure_ that you do.

"I know you’ve almost run out of ideas, you’re lagging in your writing.  It seems you need another person to brainstorm with and who’s better than the person you’re writing about. 

"Bottom line, I keep all this a secret, and the only thing you need to do is keep writing, and come to me for these” he chuckles, “brainstorming sessions. And to show me the results, obviously.”

He smiles and leans his head back in the chair, “I can wait a few minutes while you think it over.”

Your mind races at a mile a minute.  _ Isn’t this what you want? You finally get to share a night with Papa III, but at what cost? If you refuse, everybody is going to avoid me like the plague and no one will even try to interact with me. To be honest it would be nice to be left alone for once, no one would fuck with me, cause if they fucked with me, they would fuck with Papa and no one fucks with him. But would he really kill me over a fucking story? _

You think along those lines for a few minutes and you finally ask, “Would you really kill me over a fucking story?”

“Just a story? My dear, your story is the most read piece of literature relating to the Clergy that I’ve encountered!” He quietly chuckles, “And misrepresentation of the Clergy is a very serious matter. Not to mention it’s a serious crime as well. Very much looked-down upon by us higher-ups.”

“And what does that have to do with me?”

“Like I said earlier, at the beginning of your story, you presented a huge misrepresentation of me, and by extension, the Clergy. And although it’s improved... it’s not perfect. And so I have taken matters into my own hands in dealing with it. So to answer your question, yes, I would.”

You nervously swallow and your heart pounds. You’re terrified, but somehow aroused by his threats. This wanton display of power is exactly what you’ve been trying to pin down.

He lifts his head to look at you. “So, what’ll it be? 1. I keep all your secrets, at the cost of you getting fucked around, one or two times a month for...brainstorming purposes, and me reviewing your chapters and correcting any mistakes. Or 2. You refuse my terms, you walk out of here unharmed, I reveal all your secrets, and if you continue writing in the same manner, I kill you.” He takes his hand away from your face, scratches an X over your heart with one of his claws, and gently rests the end of his finger on the center of the X, feeling your heartbeat and smiling.

You try to keep calm as he brings his face to yours. Still smiling, he says “Let me show you what could happen if you refused.”

He lightly kisses your forehead, and you see yourself from papa III’s perspective, just how you are sitting now, naked, on his lap, and with his finger over your heart. You watch as you, as Papa III, crush your ribcage without a second thought by pressing on your sternum with his finger.

The scene changes, you see yourself, sitting in the dining hall at your computer with your back turned. You watch as a white gloved hand reaches out and crushes your neck. You slump over your computer, dead, just as Papa 3 promised.

You, sitting outside on a bench. You, as Papa 3 tackle yourself, sit on your chest, and rip out your throat.

You head, cleanly separated from your body, and sitting perfectly preserved above the fireplace in Papa III’s room.

You see yourself get pushed off the mountain near the chapel. You hear your panicked screams as you freefall and the screams suddenly stop.

You watch as you are torn apart by a pack of feral ghouls.

The scenes go on and on and on, each one more disturbingly violent than the last. When the scenes finally stop, you realize you’ve curled up into a ball on Papa III’s lap and tears are streaming down your face.

Papa III just laughs, “Disturbing, isn’t it, seeing how fragile the human body is, how many weak points you have, how easy it is for a powerful demon like me to exploit them. I could easily break your hand just by grabbing it too hard.”

He grabs your hand and starts to squeeze it. You cry out in pain as the bones in your hand unnaturally grind against each other.

Your voice is barely a whisper as you beg “Please, don’t!”

He darkly chuckles and quietly says, “The little sparrow has finally found her voice again!” He lessens the pressure on your hand, but doesn’t let go.

“I’ll let you go for now, as it seems you can't answer me,  but I’ll catch up with you in a day or so. Think on what I said.”

He teleports you back to your bedroom, sans clothes, and disappears within the blink of an eye. His voice comes out of the Ether next to your head, “Now don’t go writing anything, that’s an automatic rejection of my terms, and we don’t want that, now do we?” You feel him kiss your neck and all presence of him disappears from your room.

You collapse on the ground and stay like that for the next few hours, trying to process what the hell just happened.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You decide to accept Papa III's offer.

During the next day, you aren’t in your right mind at all. You wander about, doing your duties like a zombie shambling through a deserted shopping mall.  
Your mind is preoccupied with what happened the day before. You keep mulling over in your mind what went wrong and what went right with that encounter.

You really, really don’t want Papa III, or the ghouls, to kill you. Mostly because your fans would be so despondent and depressed, you don’t want to do that to them. On the other hand, not everybody gets a personal invitation from Papa III.

You continue to be lost in your thoughts in the crowded hallway as you walk back to your room.

Breaking you out of your stupor, someone grabs your arm and pushes you into the wall.

Papa III materializes out of thin air in front of you.

“So,” he says with a wolfish smile , “thought any more about our deal?”

You quickly look around, the hallway seems to have become deserted within a few seconds.

“No one is going to hear or see us, so feel free to speak freely.”

“I have been thinking about it, yes,” your voice starts wavering, but you take a deep breath to calm yourself.

He leans with his forearms on either side of your head, and says, “That’s good, and what exactly have you been thinking about it? I would really hate to kill you after all we’ve been through.”

An outright lie, easy enough to figure out from your previous experience. Put on the spot like this, you forget the response that you were rehearsing in your head for the entirety of today.

You just start babbling. “Well, uh, I’ve been considering the advantages and disadvantages of this negotiation, and, uh, I realize that a big disadvantage of refusing your offer is that I would basically, uh, forfeit my life to you.”

“Glad you figured that one out, my precious wordsmith.” He quietly laughs and tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. “What..advantages have you thought about?” He smirks and his eyes seem to unnaturally sparkle again.

You clear your throat and begin to answer, “W-W-Well the a-advantages are a ah, different story, because I won’t die if I accept your offer, and I’ll finally get to fuck someone, meaning you...” You abruptly stop and cover your mouth with your hand.

“So my suspicions _were_ right. I know I can be quite irresistible at times, but like I said when we met before, you could have just asked. It honestly would have saved you the trouble of going through this.” He laughs again and interlaces his hands above your head. He roughly exhales and leans into you, pushing his hips and chest against yours, pinning you to the wall.

His face just inches from your own, you feel his breath more than hear him whisper, “Then you wouldn’t be considered an enemy of the clergy too. Be glad I’m more forgiving than Sister Imperator on these things.”

You take your hand away from your mouth, tightly close your eyes, and quickly say in one breath, “Yes-I-have-considered-your-offer-and-I-accept-as-I-see-no-other-possible-way-for-this-to-go-well-for-me.”

You brace yourself for an answer, any answer really. Hearing nothing except your heart pounding in your ears and a low purring sound, you slowly open your eyes. You realize the purring sound is coming from Papa III

“I knew you would see things my way eventually.” He smiles and steps away from you, “See you tonight! Dress like you normally would.” He winks and walks away.

* * *

  
  
That night in your room.

As you are sitting at your desk, you feel a wind blow through your room, even though the window is closed. You shiver from the sudden burst of cold and swivel around your chair, looking for the source of the drastic temperature change. You see Papa III casually leaning against your closed door with his arms crossed and a grin that would put the cheshire cat to shame plastered on his face.

Your heart starts to race the instant you see him. You take a swig of water from the glass on your desk and with what you think is a calm demeanor say, “Good evening Papa Emeritus.”

He waves away your greeting and steps towards where you’re sitting, always staying between you and the door.

“Full titles aren’t going to be necessary,” his grin softens to the slightest of smirks, “I’ve heard from many credible sources that it’s much harder to scream the full ‘Papa Emeritus’ title, than just ‘Papa’. So, my dear, I insist you just call me Papa.”

He looks you up and down and says, “A bit dressed up for our brainstorming session, aren’t we?”

“But I’m just wearing my normal clothes.”

He smirks and says “Exactly though, you’re wearing _clothes_. Take them off if you would be so kind.”

His voice sounds sickly sweet, like his polite words are there to only make it seem like you have a choice. You get up out of your chair and turn your back to him so you can put away your clothes after you take them off.

You pull your shirt over your head and reach behind you and take off your bra. You go to remove your pants and you hear papa’s voice from behind you.

“That’s good enough for now, keep them on.”

He steps up behind you and trails a finger down your spine.

“I believe my quarters would be better suited to our needs, wouldn’t you?” He purrs, and continues to gently caress your back, “I think that here is a bit too... confining for my tastes.”

You shakily take a deep breath, his enticing words woven with desire ignite a fire within you.

“Whatever you want Papa.” You say under your breath, not trusting your voice to be calm.

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that? I couldn’t quite hear you.” He presses his stomach to your back and rests his chin on your shoulder. His hands come to rest at your hips and he drums his fingers waiting for your reply.

You clear your throat and repeat what you said, “Of course Papa, you do know best after all when it comes to this.”

“Glad to hear my personal composer finally sees that I’m right.”

He stops drumming his fingers, and a wave of motion sickness washes over you as the room around you blurs beyond recognition. The blurring eventually stops and you are back in Papa IIIs bedroom.

You feel a shot of adrenaline course through you as the scenes that Papa III showed you pop into your mind.

Papa III circles in front of you and cradles your head in his hands.

“Shhh, calm down, I’m not going to do that, at least not tonight. I may be a prince of hell, but one thing we princes hold ourselves to is upholding our end of bargains.”

That made you feel better, but not by much. You nod anyway to acknowledge you heard him, and you cross your arms and hold your elbows to keep them from shaking.

“You’ve probably thought of this all a million times at least, how this night would go, what sweet nothings I would whisper in your ears, every one of my gentle caresses, every kiss we would share.” He trails his finger down the center of your face, stops on your lips and smugly smiles, “But what’s the use? You’ve already fallen for me, so why waste my time and energy in seducing you when it could be better used on other things. I mean, you’re already obsessed with me...”

“No! I’m not!” you interject, trying to defend what little dignity you have left in the eyes of Papa III, “I’m just writing what my audience likes!”

He raises one eyebrow and asks “But you didn’t always have this audience. What prompted you to write in the first place?”

“When did ‘brainstorming’” you say, putting airquotes around brainstorming and trying to avoid saying that he’s right, “become an in depth interview to see what makes me tick?”

He cocks his head sideways in thought, “Why can’t brainstorming be that? I need to know how my author thinks to better understand her writing. And to figure out her writing, it would be beneficial to know why she got started.”

“I uh, had some ideas, I wrote them down and showed some friends, they said it was good, so I posted them online and here we are.” You make a little “tada” gesture with your hands to emphasize your point.

Papa III sharply exhales from his nose and smiles. “You still didn’t answer all of the original question, innamorata mia, you only answered _how_ , I want the _why_.”

He holds your face in his hands and caresses your cheek, waiting for an answer.

“The why _is_ a hard question,” You begin, still trying to avoid the truth, and looking everywhere but his face, “A very hard question indeed, I thought that people would like what I wrote, cause they liked other safe for work stuff I’d done. And so I showed them work I did and they always said I killed them so, the pseudonym came to be….”

You quietly trail off your rambling as Papa III quietly raises his eyebrows in a wordless command to just get to the answer.

“But yes, the first one was about you.” You manage to squeak out.

Papa III quietly laughs, slips off his gloves and goes back to cradling your face, but this time he puts two of his fingers on either side of your neck.

“Excited are we? Or is that nervousness causing your heart to pound?”

“Yes to both?” You say, unsure of the correct answer.

“If you’re nervous about this being _our_ first time together,” he leans his face in and says in your ear, “I’ll make sure to be gentle until you get used to me.”

He kisses you on the temple and looks you in the eyes with a smile.

“Um, I’m nervous about that, a bit. But this is also my first time. With anyone. Period.” You say and quickly look away, your face turning bright red. You hold your elbows tighter to prevent Papa III from seeing any sign that your hands are uncontrollably shaking.

He is silent for a few seconds and blinks a few times, his face softening just a little. “Really? I never would have guessed. With the quality of your work, I would have expected you to have at least _some_ experience.”

You hunch up your shoulders and try to rebut his statement. “I-I mean, I’ve gotten to third base before, but never farther than that.”

He chuckles and says, “I’ll make sure to be extra gentle for you then. And I apologize that I have to be your first, because you’ll be spoiled by the quality of sex we’ll have, and truth be told,  no one else has my level of experience when it comes to these things.”

However, your body language doesn’t go unnoticed, and he adds, “If you are really _that_ nervous, we won’t do anything you don't want to do. Usually when someone’s nervous like this, it seems that just sitting and talking calms them down.” His voice was calm and steady, like he was talking to a frightened animal.

You nod.

He lets go of you and turns on the ball of his foot. Motioning for you to follow, he sits on the edge of his bed and pats the space next to him, urging you to sit. You two just talk, long into the night.

 

* * *

 

 

He yawns and looks at the clock on the mantelpiece above the fireplace.

“5AM already?” He looks down at you, your head in his lap, “You are as enrapturing to talk to as your writing is to read.”

A familiar motion sickness washes over you, and you find yourself laying on your bed, with Papa III standing at your bedside.

He smiles and taps the thin red X on your chest. “I promise that next time won’t be so,” he pauses, trying to find the right word, “mellow.”

He winks and disappears with a gust of wind.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the only way I could think of to make the consent work. xP  
> Just like Papa promised, next chapter isn't going to be as mellow as this one.


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning you get a text from a number not in your contacts.

~Remember: No publishing any new chapters until I’ve reviewed them!~

You can almost hear the sing-song way Papa III would say it.

You reply with a simple ~Understood~ and get ready for the day.

As you are eating breakfast you realize something. ~How did you get my number? I never gave it to you and you never asked for it.~ you text him.

~Heh, You think I didn’t have it already? I know a lot more about you than you realize. I keep tabs on anyone that catches my eye. ;)~

~Well, that’s comforting. I’m going to update the story with a note that says “My beta reader is taking a while to get back to me so these next parts are going to take a bit longer to upload.” Otherwise there will be a lot of questions from everyone of why I haven’t uploaded.~

~Be my guest~

Later that day you update with the note:

Hey guys, sorry for the delay in updating.

My beta reader is being really anal about these next chapters, and I’ve had to rewrite them several times. It’ll take a bit longer than usual for the next chapters to be posted.

Thanks for understanding!

TheKiller_OfSouls

* * *

 

As you are walking to lunch that day, you feel someone come up behind you, grab you by the wrist, and begin to lead you to a side hallway. You instinctively break their grip and elbow them in the face. You expected to feel your elbow hit someone in the jaw, but you realize that whoever grabbed you also caught your elbow just before it hit their face. You feel claws dig into your elbow.

“My, my! _Scrittore_ , you really expect the worst of people, don’t you?”

“With bosses like you, who needs enemies?” you counter.

You quickly look around the hallway to see if anyone passing by notices you two. They don’t, or well, they do, but they just quickly glance at Papa III and hurry on their way.

He grips your elbow tighter, and his claws painfully dig further into your skin.

“No one will stop me _scrittore_ , all they see is me casually talking to you.” He smirks and pushes your elbow away from his face, keeping his grip on it.

He pulls your elbow down so you have to lean into him. He growls in your ear, “I’ll let this one slide _scrittore_ , but only this once. Any other time, you’ll have to explain yourself better than just an elbow to the face.”

He lets go of your arm and walks away without another word. During lunch you get a text from him.

~Saturday?~

You check all your calendars and see that they are all free, which is a bit strange, as you swear you had something assigned from Sister Imperator for you to do this week. ~Saturday works.~

~Marvelous! I’ll see you then!~

As the week goes by, you try to keep your mind off your date with Papa III, but that’s easier said than done.

He still hasn’t stopped ‘just happening to be in the same place as you’ as you go about your work. You try to be unaffected by this and avoid looking at him at all costs, but sometimes you find yourself being drawn to his face. Then he promptly smiles knowingly at you, and you flee the area as quickly and as unobtrusively as possible, trying very hard to not show anybody that your face is bright red.

Unfortunately, both your and Papa III’s behavior has not gone unnoticed by some of the Siblings of Sin you work with.

“Wow, Papa III has been coming around a lot lately.” Sister Erin comments one day during lunch. “I wonder why?”

Your sandwich suddenly becomes the most interesting thing in the world at the moment as you try not to let your mind wander. “I uh, don’t really know Erin. That man is an enigma and a half.” You nervously laugh and take a big bite of your sandwich so you have an excuse to not talk.

She laughs. “And if I’m continuing down that line of questioning, what about you? Whenever you steal a glance at Papa III you just turn into a mess! Almost dropping things and hurrying to get out of his sight as soon as possible.”

You keep chewing, trying to think of an answer that won’t incriminate you.

You finally think of an answer, “I just have an overactive imagination I guess and it gets out of hand sometimes.” You shyly smile and shrug a bit.

Erin starts laughing again and exclaims in mock fear. “Oh no! Is the lack of updates from The Killer Of Souls getting to you too?”

You nervously laugh along with her, “Yeah, I guess it is getting to me!”

You quickly finish your lunch and get back to your duties, relieved that you dodged another bullet.

* * *

 

It seems to take forever for Saturday to arrive, but Saturday morning, you wake up and think, _Where the heck did the week go? It seems like yesterday was Monday._

You spend the day doing your normal routine, going for a walk in the garden, tidying up your room, you almost open up your laptop and write from force of habit, but the thin X-shaped scar on your chest burns a little as you hover the cursor over the document you use to draft your popular story. You tear yourself away from the laptop, and instead decide to nap, because Satan knows you aren’t going to get any sleep tonight.

You wake up in time for dinner, and once that’s over with, you promptly fall back asleep, facedown and with one leg hanging off the bed.

You jerk awake when you feel someone put their hand on the back of your neck, and rub the base of your head with their thumb.

You hear Papa III quietly laugh and whisper in your ear, “Sleeping the day away?”

You groan in annoyance at someone waking you up, and you mumble “What else am I supposed to do today? Saturdays are normally my writing days. If I can’t do that, then I assumed the only thing I could do was sleep, as Satan knows I’m not getting any tonight.”

He just quietly laughs. You roll over and sit up in bed, stretching your tired muscles and yawning.

Papa III hops down from his perch on top of your dresser and smirks.

“If you’re already this tired, I can’t imagine what you’ll be like after tonight.”

“Probably dead.” You counter, with a smirk of your own.

Papa III’s smirk fades, and he cups your face in his hand. “My dear, I hope not. A corpse is never as interesting as a living, breathing human.”

You squint at him, “Is that a threat?”

“Only if you want it to be.” He winks, lets go of your face, and pats your chest where he marked it a few weeks ago.

You throw back your sheets and get out of bed. Papa III whistles and coyly remarks “Casual Saturday eh? It’ll make things easier in the long run I guess, less fun for me though.”

You sigh,  you never wear pajama pants, or pants at all really when you nap, “Do you want me to put on pants just so you can take them off?” You ask Papa III.

He grabs your chin, and smiles, “Tonight is supposed to be fun for both of us, so if you would oblige me, that would be wonderful.”

He hands you your favorite pair of sweatpants. You take them and ask, “How do you know I like these?”

He smirks as you put them on, “Those tabs are more than just phone numbers my dear.”

He bows and holds out his hand to you. “Ready to go _tesornia_?”

You nod and take his hand and you two planeshift to his room.

* * *

 

Almost nothing has changed since the last time you were here. Even a fire is merrily crackling away in the fireplace. However, you notice that the chairs in front of it are gone, that kind of eases the tension you didn’t notice you were holding in your shoulders, and you let them drop.

Your vision of the fireplace, and the door next to it, is blocked by Papa III stepping in front of you.

“I wasn’t going to run.” You indignantly tell him.

Papa III puts a finger under your chin and tilts your face upward so you have to look him in the eyes. He smirks and says, “It seems that way, but there’s nothing wrong with having some, warnings, in place.”

He casually puts his hand on your hip and traces your jaw with his other hand, all the while still smirking at you.

What he said suddenly clicks. Added to the way he’s standing over you and the way he’s holding onto your face and hip, you realize something.  Papa III had this entire venture planned out from the start, he knew that every step and decision you would make would lead you here, because he had you trapped from the moment you first grabbed his hand in the dining hall. This game of his was rigged from the start, and you were dealt the losing hand.

You couldn’t blame him in the slightest, no, he only wove the web, never tried to actively hunt you, and just bided his time, waiting for _you_ to come to _him_. And, being as enamored with him as you are, you willingly walked right into his open arms, and thus willingly tangled yourself within his net.

As your mind races to connect the dots, Papa III just calmly stands in front of you, his face growing ever more smug as you figure out more and more of what he did.

You think on every word he said, on every action he did, and you realize, his plan was foolproof, the instant he figured out who you were, the trap was set. Throughout all of this, he only told you the truth, never lied to you about his intentions, and he knew the truth was exactly what you wanted to hear.

Still smug as ever, Papa III quietly laughs and taps your forehead, still keeping his other hand on your hip.

“Think you’re smart enough to figure me out, eh _scrittore_? What are you going to do when you think…”

“You manipulative bastard,” You cut him off mid sentence. He’s about to start talking again, but you grab him by the collar and pull him into a kiss, preventing him from saying anything.

He yelps in surprise as you pull him off balance, whatever he was expecting you to do, it wasn’t that. He takes it in stride however, and when he grabs you for stability, he takes that opportunity to slide the hand that was on your hip underneath your shirt. You pull back from the kiss to let him pull your shirt above your head.

“Fuck,” you breathlessly say, and start to unbutton Papa III’s shirt, starting where you grabbed him by the collar, “kissing you is more addictive than heroin.”

“If you think that’s addictive, _tesorina,_ you have a lot to learn before the night’s over.”

You unbutton the last button on his shirt, and push his shirt off his shoulders. He finishes shrugging it off and in the process, takes off his gloves as well. He softly laughs as he quickly glances at the firelight glinting off of his gold claws.

You wrap your arms around his neck. He looks down at you and smirks.

“A casual Saturday indeed, no pants, no bra,” he over exaggeratedly sighs in mock disappointment, “what am I to do with a follower who doesn’t allow me to have any fun?”

He grabs your hips and pulls you into another kiss, completely overruling anything you might have said in response.

His hands move from your hips to the waistband of your sweatpants.

“You better not cut these off,” you say in his ear, “It takes forever for pants to be as comfortable as these.”

He rolls his eyes, “Fine, but we need to get you some more, disposable clothes in the future.”

You quickly undo his pants in the middle of his sentence and let them drop to the floor, pulling down his underwear with it.

“That eager eh?” he laughs, “Perfect.”

He hooks his thumbs under your underwear and pulls your pants down as well. He picks you up, one arm under your knees, the other under your shoulders. He puts you down on the edge of the bed and stands over you.

He interlaces his fingers at the base of your head, and caresses your cheeks with his thumbs.

“Sometimes in the day-to-day humdrum of my time on earth, I forget who I am. A demon prince, cast out of heaven for my pride.”

He tilts your head up to look at him, and he’s genuinely smiling, not a smug smirk, or a wolfish grin, a slight, happy, smile.

“You are the first human I’ve met that reminds me so much of them.”

“Of who, Papa?” You ask as you can’t help but stare into his mismatched eyes.

“The ones who stayed in heaven.” He leans down and quickly kisses you. But he doesn’t pull away, and touches his forehead to yours.

“Just, the air you hold yourself with,” he kisses you on the lips again, “the way you talk,” with this next kiss you let his tongue dance with yours, there seems to be a longing behind this one, like he needs this kiss more than anything else in the world, “the way you’re just so _pure_ , even though you have the dirtiest mind I’ve come across in a while,” he chuckles and kisses you again, the intensity and longing of his kiss seems to have increased again. He lets go of your face and leans into you, putting his hands on the bed next to you for support. You run your hands through his hair as he continues to kiss you. He pulls back, still keeping your foreheads touching. He closes his eyes and takes a shaky breath in. “But most of all, it’s the way you look at me. Like right now,” he opens his eyes and looks into yours, “there isn’t just pure desire there, like with other people, I can see you looking at me with desire, yes, but also reverence, annoyance, fear, and maybe even a little hate.

“That’s what I need. Someone with depth to their feelings.”

His next kiss has so much power and need behind it that he pushes you back onto the bed. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, completely giving in to his domination

“Innamorata mia,” he says, low in your ear, “you’re mine, you understand? You aren’t allowed to go screwing around with any other Siblings of Sin or any of my ghouls, and especially not my brother. I don’t want or need anyone else in my private paradise.”

* * *

 

[AUTHORS NOTE: There's a line here because I don’t feel like writing foreplay right now, but there is foreplay, trust me. Papa 3 would want to make your first time as enjoyable as possible so you keep coming back to him for more.]

 

“Wider, spread your legs just a bit wider, it’ll make things easier for both of us.”

You follow Papa III’s orders, as you trust that he knows what he’s doing.

“Shit, I’m forgetting something.” He mutters to himself, “Ah! Yes, of course.” He grabs a bottle of lube from the bedside table and quickly puts it on his cock, and wipes off his hands on a towel there.

“This shouldn’t hurt at all, innamorata mia, I have one request though.”

“Yes papa? What is it?”

“Look at me when I enter you, I need to see your face/reaction when your finally know _I’m_ the one who’s taking your virginity.” His voice is almost a low growl, and you tense up in response.

“No, no, no.” He gently chides, “Relax, deep inhale, deep exhale. Deep breath in, deep breath out.”

You start breathing like that to relax yourself, deep breath in, deep breath out, kind of hard to do when your heart is pounding this much in anticipation.

“Ready?” He asks once you’ve taken a few deep breaths.

“I think so, yeah.”

He just simply nods.

He interlaces one of his hands in your hair and tilts your head up to look at him.

You feel his other hand at your entrance, and you bite your bottom lip in expectation. You wrap one arm around his shoulders and you interlace your fingers on the other hand in his hair.

He smiles and murmurs, “This is a beautiful moment my dear, I hope I’ll remember it for the rest of my existence.”

You feel him slowly enter you, his hand guiding the way for his cock. A needy moan escapes your lips as he continues to push inside you.

His breath hitches, and he says with a joking smile, “Oh _Scrittore_ , I wish you didn’t do that for your sake,” he chuckles and buries his face in your neck. He pulls your head back and he leaves a trail of kisses up your neck. He stops at your ear and purrs, “Because it just makes me _very_ curious as to what other sounds I can evoke from you. And my curiosity knows no bounds.”

His hips touch yours and you pull him into a kiss, one that’s long and slow. One where you tease his tongue with yours, almost in in a game of cat and mouse, a game where you think you have control of the kiss. But, eventually having enough of this game, Papa III takes over, practically overwhelming you, and you realize that you never had control from the start.

You gasp as he thrusts into you again, still gentle enough to not cause you pain, but with enough force to wordlessly tell you that you’re his now, and there is absolutely nothing you can do about it.

On the next thrust he also puts some slight pressure on your clit with his thumb and slowly rubs his thumb back and forth.

A wave of pleasure crackles through your body like lightning. You tighten your grip on his hair and begin to scratch thin lines in his back with your nails.

Papa III pulls back from the kiss.

“Damn,” he grunts as he thrusts into you again, “I was right, you feel just like heaven.”

His breath hitches as he takes a breath in. “By Satan you feel good.” He groans as he thrusts into you again. “It’s been a while since I’ve taken a virgin to bed, unholy fuck I forgot what it feels like to be inside one. It’s just,” he thrusts into you and slightly chuckles when he hears you moan, “pure euphoria.”

Your breath catches as you breathe in. You are about to respond to him, but your response is replaced by a loud moan of “Oh, yes Papa”,  as he continues the rhythm he established.

He roughly exhales and tightens his grip on your hair, his claws scratching the back of your head.

You don’t care about that as he slams his mouth to yours and his demonic tongue eagerly dances around yours, almost choking you when it snakes down your throat and back out again as he pulls away with a wicked smile.

“Oh fuck yes, please Papa, by all that is unholy, Papa, please don’t stop.” You breathlessly beg as he brings you to the edge of orgasm.

You feel your muscles pulse around him, and it feels like the world has stopped spinning. You cry out his name in ecstacy, and you feel him tense up, at least for a moment and he moans as he finishes as well.

You two stop and catch your breath. Papa III runs his hand through your hair, traces your jaw with his finger, and lifts your chin up.

“For your first time, that was a very good job, _innamorata_ _mia_.” He softly kisses you on the lips and faintly smiles.

You blush at his praise.

“Uh papa?” You quietly ask.

“Yes my dear? What is it?”

“Can we uh, go for another round? Not now of course, but sometime tonight?”

His smile widens, like he was already expecting you to ask that. “Of course my dear, why wouldn’t we?”

* * *

 

The next morning

You wake up with the sun shining on your face. _Wow my pillow is harder than I realize, I should probably get a new one._ _That was one hell of a dream though, guess I’ll have something for Papa III to go through tomorrow._

You blink and the room comes into focus. You furrow your brows, confused. _This isn’t my room._ You think as you try to take bearing of your surroundings.

You finally lift up your head and you feel your “pillow” move.

You finally snap awake when you realize where you are. Papa III’s room, you’re using him as a pillow, and you just lost your virginity to him last night.

You feel a hand run through your hair.

“Good morning _scrittore_ , sleep well?”

“I, uh, don’t know, was I supposed to?”

He quietly laughs at your question, “I’ll let you answer that one for yourself. Now I believe you have enough material to write _quite a few_ chapters, am I right?”

You think on everything that happened last night, and all the events leading up to it.

“Very right, Papa.”

You untangle your legs from his and roll onto your back next to him. You wince as your thighs protest their use.

“Is every time going to be that…” you pause as you are at a loss for words.

“Fantastical? Unbelievable? I think are the words you are looking for. And yes and no. Some nights are going to be more, restrained than others.” He winks and snaps his fingers.  You feel your arms suddenly get pinned to the bed above your head. He rolls over and softly kisses you. Your arms become unpinned and you wrap them around him and deepen the kiss.

When you finish kissing him you smile and say, “Gonna have to try that sometime, for uh, research.”

“Indeed, Indeed. But only when _I_ think you’re ready for it.”

“Of course Papa, you do know best when it comes to this.”

“Now,” he laughs and pats your ass, “get up! It’s time for you to get writing! I’ll leave you alone to write and when you finish, just shoot me a text and I’ll look at it.”

You nod in response.

The motion sickness is less intense, probably cause you’re used to it by now.

“Goodbye innamorata mia, I’ll see you in a while!” He kisses you one more time, and disappears from your room. You slowly take a shower, get dressed, eat, and do whatever else you need to do on a Sunday morning. You finally sit down at your desk and crack your fingers to warm them up. You open up a document and type furiously for the next few hours. Partway through, you decide on a name for this series of chapters. “TheKiller_OfSouls and their demise at the hands of Papa III.”

  


REVIEWED AND APPROVED BY HIS UNHOLINESS PAPA EMERITUS III.


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